


Tying One On

by ms45



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Gen, booze
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-15
Updated: 2013-03-15
Packaged: 2017-12-05 09:16:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/721398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ms45/pseuds/ms45
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How that drinking competition might have gone down if Ash and Shep hadn't been interrupted.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tying One On

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BreadedSinner](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BreadedSinner/gifts).



> Inspired by BreadedSinner wanting some FemShep/Ashley friend fic. Mysteriously switches from third person to first in the middle. Needless to say, certain beverages remain the property of the estate of Douglas Adams.

“What the hell is that?”

Shepard eyed the row of fluorescent cocktails suspiciously. 

“The bartender called it a ‘Pan-Galactic Gargle Blaster’. He said it was like having your brains smashed out by a slice of lemon wrapped around a large gold brick.”

The glasses had a light haze of steam coming off them. Ashley had already picked hers up and was raising it to face height, her expression reminiscent of one who knew where the prawns were hidden. “That’s gonna send you blind,” said Shepard, leaning back just the tiniest bit. 

“Awwww. You’re gonna declare me the winner without even taking a shot?” 

“As your Commander, I’m declaring myself the winner by default.”

Ashley waved the glass under Shepard’s nose. “Smell that, Shepard? That’s the smell of victory.” 

“Smells like Chanel No. 5 to me.” Shep was never a big perfume wearer. 

“On the count of three,” said Ash, placing the glass in Shepard’s hands, ensuring it would drop if Shepard didn’t take it. “One… two… “ 

* * * * * * *

Hell. This must be Hell. 

Maybe Purgatory. There’s a bright light and a buzzing sound and Dear God, if you get me out of this I promise I will never drink again as long as I live. 

“Shep -  _acckkkkk_ …” The choking and vomiting is going to set me off. Tiles. Cold tiles. I lay my face down and hum, trying not to hear. 

My shirt. Where’s my shirt? Oh god my bra is going to strangle me and I can’t take it off because I don’t know where I am and I’ve lost my shirt. Thank god I’m still wearing my pants. They’re holding my stomach in. 

“ _Kkkkkkkkkkk-ptui_. Shepard.”  _Pant. Pant. Pant._  I keep my eyes closed. I know I’m your Commander but I just want my mom. 

“Shepard!” Either Ashley is doing much, much worse than I thought or we’ve been sprung by C-Sec. Grrrrrreat. Maybe being found shirtless and face down in someone else’s vomit will make humans more approachable to other races. OH GOD MY HEAD MY STOMACH MY ASS FUCK GOD PLEASE DON’T LET ME SHIT MY PANTS IN FRONT OF C-SEC

“Ashley! Have you guys been drinking Ryncol?” Garrus… and… a big, ugly red lizard. Wrex, you fucker. “Help me lug her into the skycar. Whoa there, Champ! …better out than in.” 

“She just puked on my boots, you turian asshole.” 

Bony fingers grip my shoulder. “Garrus… no…” I plead. “Come on, Shepard,” soothes Garrus, in a voice that makes me think of molasses and whisky and FUCK NO I DON’T NEED TO THINK ABOUT WHISKY. He puts a hand under my head, cradling it, and tries to pull me to my feet. Not gonna happen, big guy. 

Sighing, he picks me up like I’m a particularly impressive bass catch and lugs me into the back of the car. Wrex follows, slinging Ash around like it ain’t nothing, and hurls her into my lap. She flickers her eyes open.

“Shepard. I…  _gasp_ … win.”

I look at her face, carefully drawn moustache in Sharpie, with a crudely drawn cock on her right cheek to go with it. “You win, Ash,” then the world disappears. 


End file.
